


Princes of Gotham

by Direwolf88



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Brotherly Love, Family Feels, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 02:24:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14439471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Direwolf88/pseuds/Direwolf88
Summary: A day in the life of the royal Clan of Gotham. A tale of wings, claws, mischief, and affection. To be dragon nobility is a great responsibility and requires dedication and sacrifice. But it's got nothing on being a brother.





	Princes of Gotham

**Author's Note:**

> This started out kind of silly but I actually ended up getting hit with some serious feels. I'm a huge fantasy nerd and am considering making this the beginning of a series, depending on the reception. Hope you all enjoy.
> 
> Within asterisks ex: *Hello* indicates Dragon-speak: a complex language of rumbles, growls, clicks, and chirps
> 
> Dragon Vocabulary:
> 
> edu- brother (when addressing)
> 
> besu- son (when addressing)
> 
> ada- father (when addressing)
> 
> Kitling- a young/baby dragon

Jason Redheart, son of Darkclaw and second heir to the kingdom, curled his large claws into the loose soil beneath him. This was his favorite part of a hunt. The still moment right before a strike. The wind brushed over the smooth hide of his back sending his scent into the air, but he was positioned downwind of his target. He was clever and one of the best hunters in his Clan. Second only to the King (otherwise known as Father on good days). His high-powered vision zeroed in on his prey. His prey was small, only a fourth Jason's size.

  
He was patient. Cunning. When the smaller creature was within optimal range, Jason began to crawl slowly toward him, large multi-colored wings tucked tightly against the arch of his back. This hunt seemed even easier than normal. His prey was distracted, not at top form. No matter. A hunt was a hunt.

  
Finally, while the wind rested for a few brief seconds, Jason sprang from his hiding spot tackling his prey to the ground. The smaller Dragon let out a ferocious squawk, unsheathing deadly claws and trying to dig them unsuccessfully into the throat or underbelly of the larger dragon that had just rushed him. Jason rolled them through his attack, making sure that the smaller Dragon never took the full impact of his considerable weight, and landed with the little one squirming fitfully on Jason's massive chest. When they finally came to a stand still he glanced at Damian atop him to find the Kitling glaring fiercely at him, tiny off-white wings (currently incapable of flight), flapping agitatedly behind him. Jason rolled over gently, sliding his baby brother back to the ground before lifting his snout and chuffing smoke into the air in a loud Dragon-speak version of a victory cry.

  
Damian just chuffed in annoyance, shook out his whole body from snout to tail tip, and turned around to go back to the small dug out area next to the river that he liked to rest in. Jason cocked his head in confusion, and not a small amount of worry. His baby brother was never one for passiveness. He would normally rise to any challenge, even a playful one like Jason's, with a ferocious aggression that had earned him quite a reputation in their proud city-state of Gotham. But Damian was obviously bothered by something. He had never been able to sneak up on the dangerous, highly trained Kitling quite so easily before.

  
Before he could get too far away, Jason stood on four tree trunk sized legs and in two large steps caught up with Damian and snagged him by the scruff, a patch of soft, skin-like hide located at the very base of the neck just above the wing joints. All baby dragons had them until they began their Moulting, or puberty as Humans referred to it. Moulting was a big deal to Dragons. All dragons were born with the same soft white and brown coloring and would not know their permanent coloring until after the event. That is also when certain key bone and muscle groups developed in their wings, allowing them to fly. Until then, they were bound to the Earth unless a larger dragon took them to the sky. They also gained their Second Name during the Moulting, usually based on their appearance or abilities or sometimes personality. Of course, the Moulting also began a dragon's desire to search for a mate and in particular, a True Mate. But Damian cared nothing for this effect of the process. Only that he needed to be able to fly to fulfill his destiny to help his Father and brothers protect the kingdom.

  
Damian struggled a bit in his grasp, but not nearly enough for Jason's liking. He proceeded to the depressed area near the river and circled a few times before laying down and settling Damian in between his two front legs. He bumped the tip of his snout into Damian's neck, grumbling low, nearly sub-sonic sounds at the distressed kitling, half apology for his rough play, half concerned questioning. Damian stood up on his hind legs and held what he could of Jason's large head between his two fore claws, nuzzling the bright streak of white scales on Jason's forehead, located in between two rear-curving sharp pointed black horns. The white stood out starkly against Jason's primary coloring. He was a glossy black with shimmering red on his chest and underbelly and on the tips of his wings. The white on his forehead was not something that developed until after his...gruesome demise and subsequent resurrection. And his little brother was obsessed with the mark. Jason himself liked to pretend it didn't exist, choosing to ignore the reminder of such a painful time in his young life. But Damian embraced it constantly. Paid special attention to it even; particularly when he was stressed about something. Their older brother Richard once told Jason that it was because he saw it as a reminder, not of Jason's death, but of his rebirth- his return to the fold. And  _that_ was a joyous event (or so Richard claimed). Something to celebrate, even if it was rough at the beginning.

  
Jason needed to get to the bottom of his brother's distress. He used Dragon-speak.

  
*What's the matter, Small Claw?* Since Damian had not yet gone through his Moulting and therefore had not earned his Second Name, the brothers had decided on a nickname for him. Damian was generally _not_ a fan of it,but he did not protest its usage today.

  
He continued to nuzzle and scrape at the white mark but answered gruffly. *Nothing. I'm fine.*

  
Jason rolled his eyes at the typical pre-adolescent attempt at a brush off and used his superior strength to push Damian off balance until he was belly up in the dirt glaring up at Jason, who growled non-threateningly at him, demanding an honest answer.

  
*Truly, _edu_ , it is of no consequence. I am simply...* He stalled here, squirming a bit in what Jason could only judge, shockingly, to be embarrassment. His fierce warrior brother was  _never_ embarrassed. Jason chuffed at him, encouraging him to finish his explanation. *nervous! Are you happy?! I'm nervous*

  
Jason was shocked yet again. That was another trait Damian had never demonstrated, much less admitted to. He wasn't entirely sure how to proceed. Where was Richard when he was truly needed? The soft-black and sapphire blue dragon was almost always right under wing, pushing himself into everyone's personal space and demanding conversation or worse...extensive cuddling. But now, in a moment where his emotional expertise was needed, he was nowhere to be found. Jason even searched the skies briefly, hoping to catch a glimpse of sapphire blue, but only found fluffy clouds instead. It was up to him then. _Poor kid,_ he thought.

  
*Why, Small Claw? What great evil could have so fierce a warrior as you nervous?* Jason only inserted a hint of teasing into his tone, trying to lighten the mood. His brother really was a warrior, far better than any Kitling his age should be, _damn Talia Stoneheart_.

  
Damian rolled out of Jason's reach and he allowed it. They both stood and began to prowl back toward Wayne Castle, the royal stronghold of Gotham. Jason could have lifted him and flown them back in a fraction of the time, but he got the sense that Damian needed to regain some face, so he let the little one take the lead and strode alongside in a protective position, ever vigilant.

   
*The delegations begin arriving today.* Damian answered like it was all the explanation needed. Jason nodded his large head in acknowledgment. It was the annual Gathering of the major kingdoms. It took place at a different location every year and this year Gotham was hosting. Alfred, the Royal Advisor and Sire-like figure to the King, had been in a tiff for weeks preparing for the arrival of all the Royal envoys.

  
*Yesss* Jason cocked his head, clearly missing something. *In fact, Just before I joined you out here, King Cal-el arrived with his mate and their son. That's actually why I sought you out. I figured you'd want to know your friend was here.*

  
Damian snorted. *That was kind, _edu_.* His tone screamed suspicion. *How unlike you."

  
Jason chuffed in laughter. *Not really. I hoped you two might get into your usual mischief and do something bad enough to draw _ada_ 's attention away from me.*

  
Damian lightly clipped his tail into Jason's foot in reprimand. *What have you done now?*

  
*Nothing serious-*

  
The Kitling was raised by the best and was patient enough to wait out an answer.

  
*-fine. I may or may not have _accidentally_ ruined Tim's mating gift to the Amazonian she-Dragon*

  
Damian stopped in his tracks abruptly. *Redheart! Cleverdrake and myself may not always be the stoutest of allies-*

  
*translation- you fight and bicker _constantly_ *

  
*but he is still Clan and he has been preparing that gift for months. He recognized her as True Mate at last year's gathering and if he doesn't have a gift ready...the Courting cannot proceed.*

  
Jason noticed the sun was beginning to set beneath the horizon, causing him to increase their pace. He did not want his baby brother outside of the Keep walls past sunset. He lowered his head a fraction, just a touch ashamed.

*It was an accident. I was just trying to play a prank, but when I leaned on the gift and I mean just barely, it crumbled beneath me. Truly, its Tim's fault. He shouldn't have built such a fragile courting gift.*

  
Damian snorted and little plumes of smoke emitted from his nostrils. Jason smiled, showing 7 inch fangs. Smoke was the first sign of an approaching Moult. It meant the glands that created fire were developing in the young Dragon.

  
*Are you truly trying to defend your heinous actions, _edu_?*

  
Jason capitulated. *Yes! Because I feel like a steaming pile of manure and I'm not sure how to fix it." Jason finished, nipping lightly at the smaller dragon's dragging wings. "But enough about my woes. Don't think I've forgotten you were all sulky and un-Damian like a few minutes ago. Why do the delegations arriving make you nervous?*

A dark thought struck him with those words and a threatening growl escaped his throat before he could stop it. *Has someone hurt you? Threatened you? Tell me their name. I don't care what delegation they're from. Richard and I will hunt them down an-*

  
*Peace, _edu_!* Damian used his powerful limbs to jump up onto his fuming brother's back and wrapped his forearms as far around Jason's neck as they would go, attempting to calm him. *No one has done any such thing. And even if they did, I can take care of myself. I am the son of Darkclaw, a prince of Gotham, I-*

  
*Yeah, yeah I get it, Kitling, but you're also our baby brother, and that's all I'll say about it.* Jason shook his massive head to clear the troubling thoughts but when Damian tried to climb off of him, he used his shoulder muscles to keep him firmly in place. The dark thoughts and some of his own painful memories were too close to the surface and he liked having Damian safe and sound right where he was. He decided to use the opportunity to take to the skies, breaking into a brisk jog and lifting off the ground and into the air with 4 powerful wing thrusts. Damian chirped in surprised delight. Jason was one of the most talented fliers in all the kingdoms, but he thought their brother Richard Bluewing was even more impressive. Not that Jason would ever admit that out loud.

  
Once they were well on their way home and the sounds of the wind had settled around them, Damian relented. Begrudgingly touched by his brother's protectiveness, he rumbled a response, finally revealing the reason for all of his odd behavior.

*I am nervous because the Atlantean delegation will be here and  _she_ is with them.*

  
And then it hit Jason. Like a trebuchet blast _(damn humans and their tricky invention)_. Tempest, daughter of Arthur and Meera was a Water Dragon. Around Damian's age and once a shy, bashful Kitling. She and Damian, along with Jonathan, the Kryptonian Dragon prince, had become fast friends over the years and their bond seemed all but unbreakable. But last year something had changed. Her Clan had hosted the gathering in Atlantis and when the Gotham Dragons arrived, Damian ran straight to her only to notice that her hide and scales were no longer soft white and brown. At least not entirely. Their were shades peeking through. Brilliant blue-greens and golds. Water Dragons were lighter and had wings reminiscent of gossamer and hers had truly begun to shine. Damian was struck dumb. Tempest attempted to address him but Damian made no response, eyes wide and lower jaw drooping. It was an awkward Court Introduction to be sure. After that, Damian and Tempest spent the rest of the Gathering casting confused longing glances at one another and playing a complex game of avoidance with poor Jonathan stuck in the middle. When the Gotham Clan took to the skies on the next moon heading for home, Damian was, in a word, morose. And the young Princess seemed much in the same state.  The fact was, female dragons matured more quickly than their male counterparts and sometimes the mistimed transitions among peers did not go well. There is simply too much change during the Moulting. New pheromones, physical and mental transitions, etc.

  
Jason always secretly thought that the entire situation was adorable, but apparently Damian took it far more to heart than any of them had known. Except maybe Richard, that nosy Dragon knew everything of that nature.

  
He used his semi-prehensile tail to poke at the young dragon curled up on his back. *Cheer up, _edu_.*

  
Damian swiped a set of small (but incredibly sharp) claws at the offending tail and refused to be swayed from his foul mood. *Impossible. I made a fool of myself last year. And it was _her_ fault.*

  
*That's a load of shit, Damian and you know it. She can't help it that her Moulting began.* Damian tucked his head beneath his own wing at this comment, clearly uncomfortable with such blatant speak on a typically private subject, especially as it pertained to a _female._ Jason pressed on, commiserating. *And truthfully, you couldn't entirely help yourself either. You and Tempest have always had a strong connection and such drastic one-sided changes were bound to throw a hitch into things.*

  
*That's  _Lady_ Tempest to you; and this conversation is finished, Redheart.*

  
Jason snorted. *So be it, Small Claw. But...if you ever need to speak to anyone, I am here.* He had to swallow the sarcastic remark burning in his throat. It was not in Jason's nature to be so open and genuine, but this was important and he didn't think his customary snark would be welcome or beneficial in this situation.

  
The rest of the flight home proceeded in silence, a fact which both normally recalcitrant dragons were grateful for. When they arrived, Jason landed on the perch that led directly into Damian's chamber, only to find Alfred waiting. The King, their Father, was with him, looking as terrifying and broody as always. Bruce was a massive matte black dragon, capable of incredible stealth and combat. He was also a controlling King and Father, traits that he and his Kitlings had locked horns over (figuratively and literally) on many occasions.

  
Bruce approached Jason slowly, granting the other adult male dragon the respect he deserved. He did however brush his large wing softly over Jason's in a subtle show of affection. Wings were sensitive things and were not to be touched- unless in tender affection or aggressive battle.

  
Bruce lifted Damian, who was practically asleep at this point, off of Jason's back and laid him in the nest of straw and furs, nosing them snuggly around Damian's exhausted form. The nest stood just inside the large balcony doors. Dragons liked roofs and walls as much as humans did, but they also liked easy access to the outside. A remnant from Ancient times when they dwelled solely in caves, ruling the lands like hermits instead of the proud Kings they became.

  
He motioned for Jason to follow him into the wide hallway and then glided down into the Great Hall where Richard and Tim were waiting for them. Alfred remained with Damian, curling around the young one to ensure a sense of security and Clan protection while he drifted off into deep sleep.

  
Before Jason could even fully settle into a landing, Tim lunged for him. Jason decided that being on the receiving end of an attack was not as enjoyable. However, he had greatly wronged his brother and allowed Tim the upper hand in this combat roll with very little resistance. They ended with Jason standing taller above a crouching Tim, but Tim's powerful jaws were clamped tightly around Jason's vulnerable throat.

  
Dragon speak didn't require their jaws to move any significant amount so when Tim spoke, they understood him. Perfectly.

  
*You fucking bastard!*

  
*Timothy!* Bruce scolded. *Release you brother.*

  
*No.* Tim growled. He really was pissed. The third Prince of Gotham was the cleverest of all of them (hence his Second Name) and was known for his unwavering loyalty. He rarely, if _ever_ , disobeyed their sire.

  
*Now, _besu_ * Bruce rumbled, inserting just a touch of Alpha command into his voice. Each member of the royal family, aside from Alfred, were Alpha males, but there was only ever one actual Alpha in a Clan. And he had just issued a direct order.

  
After a few tense seconds, Tim obeyed. Reluctantly. He snapped his jaws and clacked his razor sharp fangs together at Jason in a final move of aggression before finally turning away. Jason was sure that the bony protrusions at the tip of his tail scraping along Jason's shoulder was not accidental.

  
*He ruined it! I have spent months preparing that carving in preparation for Cassie's arrival and now I have nothing to show for it.  I have nothing to present to her or to impress her dam with- I-* He lowered his head in defeat and began emitting low crooning pulses, a sound of despair if Jason ever heard one. _Yep, he was a terrible brother_. _The lowest of the low._

  
*I'm sorry Tim. I know that doesn't mean much to you right now but-*

  
*It means nothing!* The red and yellow dragon roared, some of his sorrow fleeing in the face of immitigable anger. Cleverdrake was known more for his strength of mind and impressive battle tactics, but Jason thought his unigue coloring was an underappreciated asset as well. He was mostly red with a yellow stripe that painted the length of his spine, ending in a black tail spikes on one end and gleaming black horns on the other.

  
*It was an accident!* Jason could feel his own temper rising now. He tried to contain it, knowing that he truly had fucked up and deserved a bit of recrimination, but to be submissive or completely bending just wasn't in his nature, and in his opinion, he had just about allowed Tim all the leeway he was going to get. But just as he was tensing his muscles to either defend or attack, Tim wilted again, resuming his crooning cry.

  
Richard finally stepped up and practically forced Tim to his belly laying over the top half of the smaller dragon and rumbling nonsensical comforting words into his ear, attempting to calm him. Jason deflated.

  
He lowered himself to his own belly and scooted toward his brothers. It crossed his mind that this reflected the playful hunt he'd performed on his  _other_ brother earlier that very day. When he was within range, he sniffled gently towards Tim and laid his snout just inches away from his distraught brother's. Richard lifted his head and looked on approvingly. It made Jason want to punch the sappy look off the eldest's face. But this was about Tim, not Jason and his extreme dislike of Richard's "emotions".

  
*I truly am sorry, _edu_ * He tried one final time. Tim let out a long sigh and for a moment, Jason feared he would once again reject his apology- maybe even reject Jason himself. It brought to mind not-so-distant memories of Jason's reassimilation into the family and similar doubts that constantly plagued him. But, to Jason (and Bruce and Dick's) great relief, Tim stretched his neck and rested the side of his snout against Jason's in a small show of capitulation and forgiveness.

  
Bruce ambled over in that eerily graceful way of his. Seriously, the Alpha male moved like one of the large jungle cats Jason used to hunt when he was younger, despite weighing at least 12 times what those creatures did. The patriarch settled on his rear haunches and leaned his neck and head down to nuzzle the top of Tim's head several times and Jason's once in comfort.

  
*Peace, _besus_. Peace.*

  
*I'll help you fix this, Tim. I will, I swear.* Jason promised.

  
Tim's sides heaved in a sigh and the fire from the hearth caught on his red scales giving the dragon the appearance of being made of fire himself.

*I appreciate the sentiment, _edu_ , but the Amazonian delegation was spotted just a few leagues out. There's no way I- _we_ could prepare something in time.*

  
Richard, ever the peacekeeper and optimist, was now fluffing his sapphire colored wings over Tim's in a soothing pattern and chose this moment to chime back in.

*We'll think of _something,_ Tim. I know we will.*

  
Jason actually had an idea brewing in his mind but he was not a fan of it at all and was glad when a distraction flew down at that moment in the shape of their youngest Clan member, Alfred right behind him.

  
*Damian, what are you doing up? You should be asleep in your nest*

  
*TT- I am not a Kitling,  _ada_ and should not be relegated to my nest like one. Besides, its hard to sleep with these two imbeciles making such a racket* He retorted, motioning with his head at Jason and Tim.

  
Damian turned to fully face Tim and lowered his chest, leaving his rear end in the air in a classic youngster pose of 'preparing to defend or attack'. But to his consternation, Tim did not rise to the bait. This concerned Damian. Cleverdrake always retaliated. At least against Damian. His brother must be truly upset. Damian could understand that, considering what had happened. Having been denied his play, Damian decided to be the mature Dragon that his legacy demanded he be and took mercy on Cleverdrake. He huffed in annoyance and then marched regally over to join his brothers and father, deciding to curl up in between his father and Timothy, and tried to drift back to sleep. No words need be spoken.

  
Unfortunately, Richard had other ideas. *So Damian, you and Jason were gone from the Keep for a while today. Everything alright?*

  
Damian curled into a tighter ball and once again tucked his head beneath his wing. He didn't realize that this was a dead giveaway to any of his Clan mates that he was uncomfortable or upset. It made Richard stutter in his consolation fluttering and even Tim perked up a bit in worry for their youngest brother. Jason noticed that Dick was about to begin questioning the Kitling and decided to speak up, deciding he had been enough of a shit brother for one day.

  
*It's all good, Goldie. Let's get some rest huh? Tomorrow's going to be a busy day.*

  
*But-*

  
*Rest.* Jason insisted, adding his own touch of Alpha command into his tone. Technically, Richard outranked him in Clan hierarchy, but Richard didn't buck back. Instead, he laid his neck over Tim's and nudged Damian's side. He settled that way, casting Jason a final glance that spoke volumes ( _We'll discuss this tomorrow, at length)_ before closing his eyes to seek slumber. Jason just shrugged, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, and closed both sets of eyelids to drift to sleep himself.

  
They did indeed have a long day ahead of them. But despite Royal duties looming, Bruce remained awake for a while, staring contentedly ( _not lovingly, Alfred, that is_ not _a Kingly description_ ) at his brood. Dick, Tim, and Damian curled up together, with Jason only connected through minor contact with Tim's snout. When his second son began to show signs of having a nightmare a short time later, Bruce stretched out beside him and draped his neck over Jason's wings (he still couldn't believe that Jason was only a hair smaller than him now!), calming the younger male before finally succumbing to sleep himself.


End file.
